The Visit
by gina101
Summary: Andrew and William are brothers who move to Boston from England with their mother to escape their dad. when they get there a social worker tries to take Andrew away. A classic Charles Dickings theme.
1. Chapter 1

The Visit

Chapter 1

Walking cautiously down the path, Claire Hill, a social worker from Boston, took one look at the house and had already made up her mind.

She wore champagne tights and 'Prada' shoes. She had on a brown skirt and matching jacket; she was very smartly dressed as she stood impatiently at the door and waited. Her strong perfume brought life to the garden.

She was a serious woman with blonde hair that was starting to turn grey, and wore thick, square glasses on her nose. She acted like an eagle, waiting to pounce on her pray.

Her long wrinkled face made anyone's knees buckle with terror, she was the best social worker in town, and got a lot of money for it too.

Ms Hill, had no one to share it with but herself, she had vowed to stay single after the end of her fifth marriage.

The door finally opened, revealing a middle-aged woman, who held a cigarette firmly in her shaking hand.

"Yeah?" she said in a rough tone. Her teeth were stained yellow and she had bags sitting under her eyes. She wore a purple T-shirt that was baggy and stained. She also wore blue tracksuit bottoms and white, well almost white, fluffy slippers. In all, she looked like she was fifty.

"Can I help you?" She snapped again in her rough voice.

"Yes, I'm Ms Hill; I'm with the social services." The women nursing the door held out her hand and smiled.

"Come in, please." She said, Ms Hill denied her a hand shake and stepped in the house.

The room was in an appalling condition; cans and newspapers covered the floor, making it impossible to see the carpet. The curtains, which were held by a broken curtain track, hung limply and almost black like coal. Claire Hill was not impressed. She had to wrestle with the rubbish to find a seat, which she almost regretted when she sat in the most uncomfortable chair.

"I'd like to see the rest of the house." Claire Hill said with a sour expression on her face through out the whole visit.

"Okay, but you still haven't told me what you're doing here." The woman, who was called Mary Davis, asked.

"We have had reports that your youngest son, Andrew, has been, shall we say, not looked after properly."

"That's nonsense." Mrs Davis barked in her rough English accent.

"Yes, well, I will be the judge of that. now, the rest of the house?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mary Davis reluctantly showed Ms Hill round her home, starting with the kitchen. The kitchen too was just as bad as the room. Piles of rubbish covered one corner of the kitchen; it could have easily challenged Mount Everest with its height. Pots and pans hung all over; some covered with green mould. The blinds, what was left of them, hung, swinging with every blast of wind. The kitchen looked as if a bomb had hit it.

Mary saw the look on the social workers face, one of disgust.

"I've not been here the last couple of days." she blurted out. "My oldest son was looking after Andrew." She added quickly. _Great, nice going Mary, _she thought to herself.

"May I ask where you were, Mrs Davis?"

"I was away all weekend cleaning this couple's house; they were paying me for it. They were out of town for the weekend." She stuttered.

"I think I've seen enough in here. Let's talk in the living room."

William Davis walked into the living room of where he lived. The old bag, sitting in the chair opposite his mom, looked down at him. The house was a mess, he didn't care, and he didn't have time to either.

He had thick blonde hair, almost white, which he gelled back. His eyes were a light shade of blue and he had a v-shaped scare above his left eyebrow, one he got from when his dad hit him. He wore black jeans and a tight black top, showing off his muscles expertly. He also wore heavy Doc Martins on his feet.

He was a real hit with the ladies, even though he still lived with his mother and wasn't really rich, but that was the way he liked it.

Ever since they fled to Boston from England, to get away from his drunken father, he had to get a job. You could say that he had to grow up pretty quick, just to support his mom and younger brother, Andrew. He had never really had a proper childhood; he grew up with his dad beating him and his mom up, and then soon moved onto Andrew. They moved to Boston when he was just fifteen, the age Andrew was now, he dropped out of school, and it had been work ever since.

Andrew was a skinny blonde haired boy wit brilliant blue eyes, much like his brothers. He wore his favourite blue shirt with an orange T-shirt underneath. He also wore blue jeans and black 'Converse' trainers.

He sat nervously in front of the oddly mean looking social worker. She had a cold hard face that gave Andrew the creeps. She had a tendency to look up at him then jot things down on a note pad she had nesting in her lap. His brother was rambling on about how hard it had been the last couple of years and how they were doing the best for Andrew. That was sort of true, everyone was doing the best for him, and the only downside was that they were out working all the time. He didn't really have the company, only the TV or a book if the electricity company cut them off again. Andrew wished they could win some money, somehow. Not a lot, just some to get them on their feet, to make ends meet.

"In all, Andrew gets the best care we can give, considering." William finished saying after like the fifth time.

"Okay." Ms Hill said, she appeared to be waking up now William had stopped talking. She paused then stood up. "I think I've heard and seen enough. It has been a rough time for you for a while, too long. The best is for Andrew to be put in a home." Everyone gasped. "I will be monitoring you very closely. Have a good day." She said before leaving. Mary broke down in tears with her two sons at the side comforting her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Andrew's diary.

_Dear diary, _

_I know it's been a while; I've been a little busy of late. _

_This nasty social worker has threatened to take me away. _

_I don't want to go, I love my family. My life here may not be perfect, but I want to stay. I know that with my family I will always have someone to love me, if I was taken away I wouldn't have that. I wouldn't have William to cheep me up when I'm down, or to be there and most of all, _

_I wouldn't have mom, she means the world to me, _

_I don't know what I'd do without her, without both of them. _

_Mom has just come back form hospital, _

_she gave up a fright, and she collapsed at home. _

_Doctors say it was because of stress. _

_Me and William are taking it in turns to look after her! _

Andrew threw his bag down and shut the door.

"Will, I'm home." He shouted, and then walked into the kitchen.

William was there, he had red puffy eyes, he had been crying, which was rare for him, he never cried. Or if he did, it took a lot to make him cry. He was hard as nails.

He didn't need to say anything to Andrew, the look was enough.

"How did it happen?" Andrew asked coming from his bedroom and into the living room.

William had been cleaning. He was now sat in front of the fire.

"She collapsed at work. Fell off a ladder."

"You should have looked after her better." Andrew screamed at his older brother.

"What?"

"You heard. She's dead and it's all your fault. You're just like dad!"

Andrew screamed and stormed into his bedroom; he slammed the door shut and broke down.

The day of the funeral came quickly, too quickly for Andrew.

He woke up in a cold sweat that morning.

When he came from his bedroom, William was in the kitchen.

"Hey." Andrew said.

"Hey." William peered over the paper clutched in his hands for a second.

It was a speech he wanted to read out, a poem, his mom's favourite poem.

"I'm sorry." Andrew said.

"For what?" William placed down the poem and looked at his brother, he could see the sadness in his eyes.

"Blaming it on you, it wasn't your fault. You did the best you could, and you're nothing like dad."

The two brothers embraced and Andrew broke down in tears once more.

"I can't go." He sobbed, William hugged him tighter.

"You can, I'll be there."

"No, 'cause if I do go, then that means she's never coming back. And she has to come back."

William felt his pain; he didn't want to go either.

He didn't want his mom to be dead.

Now he would have to be a surrogate mom to Andrew.

He couldn't do that, could he?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The room was packed; the church was brightly decorated with flowers.

A sea of people dressed in black sat sobbing in their seats.

William stood at the front, everyone looked at him.

He held the poem in his shaking hands and began to read;

'Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in the mornings hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush,

Of quiet birds in circled flight,

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.'

"Tea?" William asked Andrew as he walked into his bedroom.

Andrew nodded; William placed the cup down gently at the side of his brother.

"Thanks." William sat at the side of his brother.

"The poem was great, mom would have liked it." Andrew wiped a lone tear from his eye.

"Seems quiet."

"Yeah, mom was always the first one up."

"And the last one down." William added.

"Where do we go form here?" Andrew asked sounding almost distant.

"Go to bed, try to sleep."

"No, I mean the social worker."

"Oh you mean Ms too good for everybody.

God if I ever meet her again I'd like to tell her that she can shove that note pad up her…"

"William. This is serious; she's going to want to take me away."

"No they won't. Now get some sleep 'lil guy."

William walked out and closed the door behind him.

"I won't let them." He said to himself.

Claire Hill sat down on her real leather sofa, picked up her cup of coco and turned on her 45 inch screen TV.

Flicking through the channels she took a sip of the hot liquid.

She was ready to settle down for the night when she heard a bang from the kitchen.

"Stupid dog." She muttered under her breath.

"It wasn't the dog Claire." She heard a familiar voice say.

When she turned towards the voice her face turned white.

"Richard." She shrieked.

The man, if that's what you could class him as, came closer and closer towards the frightened woman.

"Stay away." She begged, backing away.

He still kept moving towards her.

His skin was peeling away from his bones and the clothes he wore were tattered and dirty.

"You're dead." She screamed as she hit the wall, tears staining her cheeks.

"Yes, that I am Claire that I am. My dear." He paused and began to pace the room. "I had a heart attack, yes that was it, and you gave me a heart attack. You killed me."

He slammed his fists on the wall behind her, making her jump.

She would have run if she could have, truth is she was too scared, paralyzed to the spot.

Richard Hill, her ex-husband, was the only person who could scare a scary lady such as Claire Hill.

"I still wear our ring, even today."

"What do you want." She pleaded.

"You've been bad Claire, very bad. You need to change your ways, or else."

"Or else what?" she now had a little confidence back.

"Tomorrow, you will be visited by three ghosts. Expect the first one at noon."

Then he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Good morning Ms Hill." Everyone said as Claire Hill walked briskly through the office of where she worked.

"Are you okay? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

One woman said as she walked into Claire's private office.

"No, no ghost. I'm fine."

"Okay, you have a lunch meeting at noon."

"What? Noon? No, no noon. Cancel." Claire cut her secretary off, she was really jumpy.

"You want me to cancel?"

"Yes." Claire shooed her PA out of the office and ran into her bathroom.

Once there, she splashed cold water on her face. When she looked in the mirror she jumped with shock.

Staring back at her was the face of an old woman. She looked a lot like Claire,

only older and her hair was entirely grey.

"Hello Claire." She said in a chipper tone.

"Auntie Jessica?" Claire asked puzzled.

"That's right, I'm early." Claire screamed and backed away from the mirror,

before bumping into the ghost itself. She jumped out of her skin.

"What are you doing here?" Claire screamed.

"I'm your first ghost Claire."

"But you." Claire pointed to the transparent figure of her Auntie.

"You taught me everything I know today."

"I was wrong Claire. You must change your ways."

"Why? What will happen if I don't?" Claire challenged.

"I can't tell you. I'm the ghost of the past; I can only show you the past. Not the future."

"Show me?"

The next thing Claire saw was he outside of an old house, decorated with bright Christmas lights.

Claire looked around in amazement, it was her old house.

"You coming or what?" Jessica said standing at the front door.

To Claire's shock, the ghost of Jessica Hobson stepped through the door.

"Well, come on then." Jessica poked her head through the door then disappeared again.

Claire felt the door, it was solid however; she stepped through anyway.

Claire Hill fell to the floor and landed on her back.

She heard the ghost laughing at her from behind the door.

Losing her temper, she stood up and opened the door only to be greeted by Jessica.

"Get's 'em every time." She said smirking.

"Just show me whatever you have to so we can go." Claire snapped.

"Patience." Jessica led the way into a small living room, decorated with a line tree in the corner and paper chains hanging from the ceiling.

In the middle of the room, a TV was playing and in front of that TV,

sat a young girl with blonde locks and her eyes glued to the screen.

"That's me?"

"Yeah, that's you."

"I don't see the point."

"Keep watching." The ghost replied. Claire kept watching, she saw the tears in the young girl's eyes.

Then she heard it, her parents arguing, slamming doors and throwing objects at each other.

Just like they always did. Claire began to feel the tears in her own eyes, and then wiped them away quickly, returning to her cold, hard self.

She hadn't cried in years, and she wasn't going to start now.

She closed her eyes to block out the screaming.

When she opened her eyes she was back in her office.

"Are you okay Ms Hill?" her secretary asked rushing into the office.

Claire was still dazed and couldn't speak.

"I heard you screaming."

"I'm fine, just a little under the weather. I'm going to go home, lie down."

Claire picked up her coat and car keys, then left.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Andrew sat slouched on the sofa watching TV when William came in with a worried look on his face.

"What's up?" Andrew asked turning off the TV and then faced his brother.

"There's some stuff I need to talk to you about. We have money problems."

How bad is it?" Andrew snatched the bank statement William was holding. His face dropped.

"We're broke Andrew. Broke."

Claire ran her hand in the hot bubble bath she had just run.

She stood in a white cotton bath robe and admired her old, tired complexion in the mirror. The bags under her eyes had grown massively over the last few weeks, something which all the botox in the world couldn't fix.

"You've let yourself go Claire." She said to herself whilst running her hand over the deep wrinkles on her face.

She walked over to the expensive white tub, and again ran her hand through the water.

Deciding it was just right; she turned off the taps and stood in a trance at the cool lapping water. Suddenly a face appeared then disappeared in the water. She jumped back and hit the door. When she looked again, the face had gone. Claire rubbed her eyes with her hands.

"Behind you." A rough English voice said. Claire's heart missed a beat.

She turned around to face the ghostly figure of Mary Davis.

"Not again." Claire whined. "Let me guess, you're the ghost of Christmas bloody present?"

"That's right." Mary paced the bathroom, stroking the white tiles.

"Whatever you have to tell or show me, jus hurry up and get out."

"Hold on to your knickers darling."

The next thing, Claire was stood outside the house of Mary Davis and her two sons.

The two of them, Claire and Mary, peered through the window.

The house was tidy compared to the last time Claire was there.

The fire was burning and both boys were sat in front of the burning fire drinking cups of coco and had sad expressions on there faces.

"In case you're wondering, the electricity company cut the power.

They have no money. You caused this." Mary paused.

"You drove me to my grave, and now my boys will probably be taken away from each other and may have to starve this Christmas. You are truly evil Ms Hill, however, you have a second chance. You can put it right." Mary began to walk off leaving Claire all alone.

"Wait." Claire shouted after the ghost.

"Just because you had a miserable childhood, doesn't mean everyone else has to."

Then Mary was gone.

"How do I get home?" Claire shouted, but it was too late, she was gone.

Claire ran down the street after the ghost that left her there.

It was starting to snow and the air was thick and cold.

Suddenly, Claire's heel gave way and she landed in a heap on the floor.

A hand seemed to appear out of nowhere. Claire looked up and let out a silent scream.

A person stood there, looking down at Claire.

The figure wore a black hood, covering the whole of the face.

They held out a hand and pointed to something in the distance. Claire followed the outstretched hand.

When she saw what the figure was pointing at, she gasped.

There, in front of her, a grave stone stood high among all the others.

She read the name and date on the piece of black marble.

It read; 'Claire Hill, 1965-2008.' She fell back on the hard, cold ground.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she closed her eyes tightly.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Claire opened her eyes, she gazed around, and she was back in her office.

She picked up a bottle of whiskey and took a big sip.

"You have to change your ways." She said to herself.

Then, she had an idea.

William and Andrew sat decorating the tree together as always.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you much this year Andrew." William said placing a small present under the tree.

"It's okay. You're here, that's all I could ever want. Family."

William pattered Andrew on the back. Then, there was a nock at the door.

William and Andrew opened it together, they gasped when they saw Claire Hill stood at their front door, she looked out of breath and her face was red,

and unusually she had a smile on her face.

"What do you want?" William snapped.

"I've come to help, I'm sorry for everything I've put you through and, I want to make it up to you."

She paused and welcomed herself into the house.

"I know I can never bring your mom back, I'm sorry for your loss."

Cut to the chase." Andrew said in a bitter tone.

"Right, I heard about your debt. I hope this will make it a little easier."

She handed them a piece of paper. It was a check, a check for one hundred thousand pounds.

"We can't take this." Andrew handed the check back to Claire.

"Yes we can." William took the check back. "Only if you're sure?"

Claire only smiled and nodded.

That Christmas, Claire Hill gave her money away to help people.

She helped lots or people; especially the Davis's who moved into her house.

Unfortunately, Claire Hill passed away.

She never got the see the wonderful things

her money did for thousands of people.

Who says a leopard can't change its spots?

The End.


End file.
